A Canada Story
by TheLadyInGold
Summary: After little Canada is abandoned by his heartless mother, he finds a new family and a new life. COMPLETE
1. At the Front Door

Brief explanation: I took some heavy artistic license and reimagined the family structure a little a la Humon's Scandinavia and the World comic. Here, "England" is modeled on SatW's England and is the dad of the family (representing the royal family and citizens of the UK) and "Iggy", the Hetalia version, is the British military/law enforcement (Scotland Yard, MI6, etc.) and the oldest brother, since I liked both characters and that was the easiest way I could figure out to include them both.(I also made the whole family a little more loving than they are usually portrayed.) The other siblings Canada gains on his adoption are America and Sealand (who is still an infant). "Marianne" (the name for the historical personification of France) is dad England's cousin and Canada and France's mother. Disclaimers: Nothing allegorical in any of the events and I am not claiming complete historical accuracy.I do not own Hetalia or Scandinavia and the World, I have no hidden agendas other than writing a (hopefully) charming story. And no, I don't hate the French.

Chapter One: At the Front Door

England looked up sharply from his paper at the knock on the door. Who on earth could that be at half past seven in the morning? He glanced at the rest of his family sitting round the table. Iggy was munching on his toast and America was busy drawing circles in his cereal with his spoon. They didn't seem to notice... hmm. He must be hearing things. Then a second, louder knock sounded at the door. This time, Iggy looked up too, and America cried, "Daddy, who's that?"

"I don't know, son," England replied. Iggy got up and headed for the door.

"I'll get it, Dad," Iggy called as he made his way to the foyer. England lifted his teacup and took another sip of his Earl Grey tea as he perused the football scores in the sporting section. Iggy soon reappeared with a strange expression on his face.

"Dad?" He motioned for England to come to the door. England got up and went to the door as Iggy resumed his place at the table. America started to say something, but Iggy put his finger over his lips, indicating that his little brother needed to be quiet.

At the door, England was greeted by a startling sight. His cousin Marianne stood at the door, as fashionably dressed as ever and with the same haughty expression on her face. With her was a small child.

When Marianne spotted England, she shoved the child forward. "Nigel, please," she cried. "You have to take this thing off my hands. I simply can't stand it around me anymore."

England was aghast. "Thing?" he thought to himself as he looked at the small boy standing, quivering from head to toe, in front of him. He was adorable, blond hair, wide blue eyes (although at that moment he was squinting nervously up at England) and a little upturned nose... so cute... but it was obvious that he was badly neglected. Hair matted, face and hands filthy, worn, ill-fitting clothes... he even looked awfully small for his age, which was six years old. (Let it be known here that Marianne was immaculately groomed... she wasn't too poor to care for him, she was a very selfish woman who had a habit of neglecting and abandoning her children.)

His gaze returned to his cousin. Through clenched teeth, he growled at her, "HE is not a thing. He is a child, a little boy. And you don't deserve him. Send me the papers."

"I will," Marianne sniffed. "I cannot abide that creature." It took everything within England to keep from shoving that miserable woman off his front porch. He glared at her and said angrily, "Have you or anyone for that matter even bothered to give the lad a name?"

"Mathieu," Marianne replied nonchalantly,"but I didn't choose the name. Just keep it, Nigel, no one else wants it. I know that I don't. What a horrid little monster. I don't care what you do with it."

That was the last straw for England. "Get out of here now, Marianne," England barked. "Just go. Mail me the adoption papers. I never want to see you again!" Marianne's only reply was to toss her head and sniff. She turned around and tottered down the porch steps on her very high heels. She climbed into her expensive sports car and roared away, seemingly unaffected by the whole scene that had just unfolded.

"What a nasty piece of work," England muttered to himself. "Not fit to care for a houseplant, much less a child..." His thoughts were interrupted by a small sound beside him. He looked down to see the tiny boy sobbing quietly into his dirty hands. "Oh, my," England said softly. He knelt down and immediately the child threw his arms around England's neck and pushed his little face into the man's shoulder, mumbling something that England couldn't understand.

"What, pet?" England said softly, stroking the boy's tangled and filthy hair. "I didn't hear you." Because he had been crying, and had such a thick French accent, he was difficult to understand. England had to get him to repeat himself a few times to clearly make out what he was saying.

"M-m-maman doesn't w-w-want me anym-m-more," the little boy whimpered. That statement was more than enough to squeeze a few tears from England's eyes. He rested his cheek on the crown of the boy's head and drew a deep breath before replying.

"Don't worry, little man," England whispered, holding the child close. "I want you. You'll be a part of my family now."

"W-w-will you be my papa?" the little one asked in a tiny voice. He sniffled, trying to wipe his nose on the back of his hand. England pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the lad's face, nodding as he did so.

"Yes, my little fellow, I'll be your papa," England told him gently. He stood up and lifted the boy into his arms. "Now let's go inside and meet your new brothers."

*Next chapter coming soon*


	2. And Then There Were Four

Chapter 2: And Then There Were Four (sons, that is)

England was still inwardly seething at his cousin's callous treatment of little Canada as he carried the boy into the foyer. Poor Canada rested his little head weakly on his new father's shoulder. Every once in a while, he hiccuped and drew a deep breath. England asked him quietly, "Are you hungry, pet?"

"Oui," the little chap responded. "Yes."

"Well, let's go get you some breakfast," England replied. "Would you like some toast with butter and jam?"

"Oui, s'ilvous plait,"* Canada replied. England was glad that he could understand French. He carried Canada into the kitchen, where he was greeted by Iggy.

"One slice of toast or two?" Iggy asked softly, opening the bread box.

"Start with one, and then if he's still hungry, we'll make him another," England told Iggy quietly. He had a feeling that the little fellow's stomach couldn't handle much at one time. Iggy put a slice of bread in the toaster while England poured Canada a glass of milk. Meanwhile, little Canada sat silently at the kitchen table, squinting as though he was not used to bright light.

"Matthew*, this is your brother Arthur," England told him. Iggy waved and smiled kindly at Canada.

"Bonjour, Arthur," Canada said in a tiny voice. Iggy was about to respond when America came running into the kitchen.

"Daddy, Peter's awake," America cried. "I heard him crying in his room." England sighed and rubbed his forehead. He really missed his wife right now... she would have been perfect in a situation like this.*

"Right," he said quietly. "Thank you, Alfred."

"I'll go get him, Dad," Iggy called over his shoulder as he turned in the direction of eight month old Sealand's room. England hurriedly began making Sealand a bottle of formula. Meanwhile, America marched right up to Canada and sat down next to him at the table.

"Hi," America said to Canada. "Are you okay?" Canada looked up at him, a little startled.

"Matthew, this is your brother Alfred," England said to Canada as he lifted the bottle from the pan of hot water on the stove top*.

"Hi, Alfred," Canada said, squinting at him.

"What's wrong?" America asked, looking concerned. "Are your eyes hurting that you're doing them all funny like that?" Canada nodded. It was then that Iggy returned carrying baby Sealand.

"Thank you, son," England told him. He took Sealand from Iggy and crossed the hallway to the living room. As he sat in his favorite armchair and fed Sealand his bottle, he thought, "Poor little chap... it's going to get better now, I promise..." He could hear Iggy and America talking quietly to Canada, and he was glad that they had welcomed the new member of the family so quickly and without question.

It wasn't long before Sealand finished his formula. England sat him up and burped him. Sealand uttered a loud belch and then exclaimed proudly, "Aphblglsthbbb." "That's right," England said in a squeaky voice as he changed the pudgy baby's diaper, "that's right, and you need a new nappy too". Iggy entered the living room just as England was putting Sealand in his playpen.

"What else can I do to help you, Dad?" Iggy asked him. England thought for a minute... let's see... what did Canada need?

"Why don't you go pull out the rollaway in Alfred's room, so Matthew has a place to sleep?" England answered. "It needs sheets on it... and a blanket and pillow too. Get Alfred to help you. I'm going to give that poor child a bath and wash his hair."

"He sure needs it too," Iggy said. He was quiet for a minute, then he suddenly said, "Dad, how did she land up like that? I mean, your... Matthew's... her," He looked angry. "How could anyone be like that?"

"I don't know, son," England replied, sighing. "She's... not quite altogether in her right mind." Iggy looked sad for a moment, then he briskly turned around and went back to the kitchen with England right behind him.

"Look, Daddy!" America exclaimed as England came back into the kitchen area. "Matthew's eyes don't hurt when he puts my glasses on!" Canada was still seated beside him, grinning sweetly, and wearing America's glasses. It was just as England suspected... the boy squinted because his eyesight was poor. England chuckled, for it was now America who was squinting up at him.

"What are you going to do now, though?" England asked him, ruffling his sandy hair. "You look like you can't see very well yourself."

America shrugged. "I'll just wear my old ones. I can see out of them, I really can."

"We will get Matthew his own glasses soon," England answered. "Now, Matthew, would you like a nice warm bath and a hair wash?" Canada nodded. "Right, then," England continued. "Come with me."

"Alfred, can you come help me with something?" Iggy said to his little brother. America nodded, jumped down from his chair and ran after him.

Footnotes:

*1. I've included some simple French seeing that it is spoken in Canada, but I am not fluent or conversational in French, so there won't be any more than that.  
>2. England has opted to use the English Matthew instead of the French Mathieu... but remember the latter, there's something to it...<br>3. Not sure exactly who or what England's wife would be, but he is widowed, and recently so.  
>4. I feel like England is old-fashioned enough to use glass baby bottles and cloth nappies, hence the warming the bottle in a pan of water on the stove.<br>And one last note: I realize that my Arthur/Iggy is a lot softer than the Hetalia one, but he is a lot younger too (I imagine him as a preteen or young teenager here). Also, I wasn't entirely clear in my first chapter that "Marianne" is based on SatW France. Hetalia France will make an appearance soon, I promise...


	3. Mon frère

The next few weeks and months brought many changes in the England family home. Canada settled into his new home quite well, thanks to his adoptive father's kindness and the love of his new siblings (especially America, who took great delight in telling everyone that they were twins.) Canada grew, put on weight and started to smile more. To him, it was as though he'd stepped into a storybook where everyone lived happily ever after.

He and America were inseparable. They went to their first day of school together, rode bikes together, lost teeth at the same time and even caught the chicken pox at the same time. One warm and sunny afternoon, the two boys sat side by side on the front porch, licking Popsicles and valiantly trying to keep them from melting all over their fingers.

"You know what, Alfred?" Canada said.

"Whnght?" America replied as he licked a dribble of grape Popsicle off the back of his hand.

"I'm happy that Daddy got me," Canada replied. "And I'm happy that you're my brother."

"I'm happy too," America replied. "You're my bestest brother ever." Then America thought for a minute and asked, "Matthew, do you have any other brothers or sisters?"

"Umm..." Canada frowned. "I think I do, but I don't remember..."

Meanwhile~~~~~~

The young blond man studied the slip of paper nervously. He showed the address written on it to the cab driver and climbed into the back seat of the cab with a sigh. He really, really hoped he'd find the place he was looking for, not to mention the person.

_Mon frère_, France thought as he studied the houses in the very posh neighborhood. _My little brother, I've got to find you again._ He had been furious when he heard that Maman had dumped the poor little boy on some distant relations without even saying so much as a word to him...

"I would have taken him myself," he growled quietly. "I would have found a way." Never mind that he was bouncing between various hotels, and various jobs. He wanted his little brother back with him. France hoped that there wouldn't be too much of a fuss retrieving the boy from these relatives. "He is my brother after all..."

"'Ere, guv'nor," the cabbie suddenly said. The cab had come to a stop in front of a very large and stately home with a lushly landscaped front yard and wrought iron fence. France paid the fare and cautiously approached the front gate. He drew a deep breath, paused for a moment to collect himself, and then knocked on the huge and heavy front door.

A tall, distinguished man in a three piece suit answered, carrying an infant in his arms. _This must be Maman's cousin_, France thought. The man looked a little surprised, but said warmly, "Francois, I haven't seen you since you were a tiny lad... come in, please."

France couldn't help but gape as he stepped into the foyer of the home. Truthfully, he hadn't seen many hotels as grand as this place. England led him to the living room and offered him a seat on the sofa. "I'll be with you in a moment," he told France. He returned a few minutes later without the baby. "Sorry about that, it's Peter's nap time. Would you like some coffee?" England asked politely.

"Oui, s'ilvous plait," France replied, although what he really wanted was to collect his brother and leave. He kept looking around the home for any signs of him...

"Cream, two sugars?" England called to him suddenly from the kitchen.

"Oui, that's fine," France answered. "Matthieu, where are you?" he whispered as his eyes fell on a box of toys tucked away behind an armchair. England soon returned with two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to France. He then sat down in a large leather armchair and looked expectantly at the young man sitting opposite him.

France cleared his throat. "Monsieur, I must first say this: thank you. Thank you for taking in mon frère after Maman abandoned him like she did. I cannot thank you enough." England nodded and said nothing. "But now, I have come to fetch him. Where, might I ask, is he?"

"At school. He'll be home soon," England replied pleasantly. France felt relief. This was going to be relatively easy...

"Well then, can we start packing everything of his so he and I can depart when he gets here?" France said hurriedly. He stood up and...

"No." England's tone remained pleasant. France was momentarily dumbfounded.

"No?" he repeated.

"No." England replied. "I legally adopted Matthew immediately after your mother left him with me, so he is my child." France blinked furiously and swallowed hard, trying to keep back tears. _I keep losing everyone that I love_, he thought. _First Pappa Rome, then Jeanne... now my little brother, I'll never see him again..._ He realized that England was still speaking to him.

"... whenever you wish," England said. "I've no desire to keep you from seeing your brother, but I can't let you take him." He looked keenly at France. "I don't mean to insult you, lad, but I think I can give Matthew a more stable home than what you would be able to provide for him at this time." France had to admit that he was right.

England started to say something more, but was interrupted by the front door bursting open and a voice calling, "Dad, we're home!" All three boys, led by Iggy, trooped into the foyer, still wearing their school uniforms. Iggy stopped short and looked suspiciously at the visitor, then turned to his brothers and said quietly, "Let's go have a snack."

"Matthew, come here please," England called. France looked up from his coffee cup and gasped. He barely recognized his brother. _Mon Dieu_! France thought. _He's grown..._

He looked healthy and happy: clean and well nourished, with bright eyes and a sweet, gap toothed grin. He even had his own little pair of wire-rimmed glasses. And he really did look adorable in his school uniform. Little jacket and tie, starched button down shirt, neatly creased slacks, polished shoes... everything about his appearance suggested a child that was much loved and well cared for.

"You have someone here to see you, Matthew," England told him softly. "Bonjour, Matthieu," France exclaimed, holding his hands out to the boy. Canada looked at France, and his eyes widened... then he took a step backward and held his hands up in front of him anxiously.

"I don't want to go back to Maman, Daddy," Canada said, turning to England. "I want to stay with you. Please don't make me go with him, Daddy... please..." He was not crying, but he looked a little scared. He kept looking back and forth between England and France.

France really wanted to cry at his little brother's reaction to him. England hurriedly replied, "Matthew, Francois just wants to visit with you." Canada warily stepped forward to touch France's outstretched hands. France, overcome with emotion, pulled Canada close to him and hugged him tightly.

"Sit with me, Matthieu," France said, patting the seat next to him. England chose this time to discreetly slip from the room and greet his other children. Canada sat down, looking suspiciously at France.

" Avez-vous été bien?*" France asked him. Canada wrinkled his nose.

"Do I have to talk like that?" he replied in English. "And where did my daddy go?" He started looking around... "Can I have my snack now?" His tone wasn't rude in the least, but France could tell that the boy wasn't comfortable with him at all.

"Oui, go and get your snack," France replied. Canada scurried off to the kitchen. France was truly heartbroken, but he didn't blame Canada. Nor did he blame Canada's adoptive family..._ C'est ta faute, Maman*,_ he thought angrily._ Matthieu's afraid of me now, because he associates me with you._

Canada soon returned with a plate of apple slices and celery sticks with peanut butter, a glass of milk... and another small blond boy in tow.

"Hi," the other little boy said curiously, looking at France. He was a cute child too... a little taller than Canada, also wearing a school uniform and wire rimmed glasses. Canada whispered something in the other boy's ear and they both sat down on the loveseat opposite the sofa, where Canada proceeded to eat his snack.

"Hi," France answered him. Canada finished his snack and then sat looking at France, holding the other boy's hand tightly. "Matthieu, who's this?"

"He's my brother," Canada told him. "His name is Alfred." America grinned at France. He's even missing the same teeth as Matthieu, France thought.

"How old are you, Alfred?" France asked.

"Six," America replied.

"We're twins," Canada told France, who chuckled. _At least he gets along well with the other children_, he thought to himself.

"Matthew, are you done with your snack?" Iggy asked as he approached them, still looking suspiciously at France. "Dad told me to wash the dishes." Canada handed him his empty plate and glass, and he left again, glancing in an unfriendly manner at the visitor. Meanwhile, Canada and America were whispering back and forth.

France looked at his watch. _I really should go,_ he thought a bit sadly... but he didn't allow himself to finish the thought, _without my brother._ He stood up and smoothed his clothes. "Well, Matthieu... I need to be on my way," he told the boy. "It was nice seeing you again."

Canada looked at him a bit nervously. "Are you going to come back and visit some other time?" he asked, still clinging to America's hand.

"Oui," France responded. "Your papa said that I could come visit whenever I like."

"Okay," Canada answered.

"Goodbye, Matthieu, goodbye, Alfred," France told them both.

"Bye," America said cheerfully. "See you soon."

France went to take his leave of England, who was in his study working on some papers. "Leaving already?" England asked, looking up from the work on his desk.

"Oui," France replied. England removed his glasses and rose from his desk to shake France's hand.

"Come back and see him any time, Francois," England told him. "And I DO mean any time. I'm not going to keep you from seeing him."

"Merci beaucoup," France said. England showed him to the front door again (it was easy to get lost in the family's home) and as France was exiting the house, a little voice called after him.

"Francois, wait!" Canada ran to the front door. Iggy was following him carrying a Polaroid camera. "I want Arthur to take a picture of us together."

France was surprised. He looked at the unfriendly teenager holding the camera, who told him quietly, "He's your brother too... I thought it would be a nice idea."

France knelt beside Canada and put his arms around the little fellow. Iggy snapped two pictures, one he handed to Canada and the other to France. "Careful, it's still wet," he said.

"Merci," France replied.

"Bye, Francois," Canada said, clutching the photo in one small hand. With the other arm he was clinging to England's leg.

As France climbed into the waiting cab, he looked out the window one last time to see Canada waving goodbye from the front porch. He allowed himself a few tears and then looked down at the the picture he held in his hands as the cab pulled away.

**_Awwww... I was gonna make this a little less happy for France, but I decided not to._**

**_Sorry I took so long to update, I lost my inspiration._**

**_Starred phrases:_**

**_1. Have you been well?_**

**_2. This is your fault, Mama._**


End file.
